


Finally, sleep came

by ObsessiveandCrazy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, How Do I Tag, Oops, This Is Sad, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, also its super late, im sorry, it may be slightly wrong since i cant remember it all that well, since endgame came out weeks ago and thats when everyone did sad fics, so this is my sad fic sorta, this is my first fic sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 20:33:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18880732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessiveandCrazy/pseuds/ObsessiveandCrazy
Summary: Spoilers for Endgame so like if you haven't seen it don't read.My take (sort of) on the scene where tony saves them all, from his pov





	Finally, sleep came

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not over Endgame (though I saw it weeks ago) and I wrote this to cope? Though, let's be real, I will never fully stop grieving.  
> As you could probably tell this is my first fic so I'm being really awkward and don't really know what to do.  
> Sorry if grammar's bad as well.
> 
> Either way, enjoy, or don't, it's up to you.

And that was how it ended.

  
It was in the midst of the battle, the land shredded apart, soil upturned as each blow, punch and kick landed on the enemy. There were battle cries, shrieks of victory, of surprise, of love when they saw familiar faces that were once thought to have been lost. But there were also shrieks of pain, of anguish, that sent shivers up his spine that if he didn’t do something soon, then all their efforts would’ve been in vain, only the fallout hitting harder than it did the last time.

  
His eyes found Dr Stephen Strange and the man looked at him too, his expression pained only by the knowledge he had. Strange lifted up a finger, sharing his knowledge with Tony, and they both knew what had to be done.

  
He looked around him then, gazing out onto the scene before him. He saw Peter, the boy who had inspired him again, his last shot at repentance, fighting like he was born to do so, and perhaps he was, because that kid could never stay out of trouble, not if it meant he could help someone. He saw him and thought, _my son_ , even though he knew he would never be able to say it.

  
He looked over at Pepper next, the fierce woman he always knew he loved, even back then when he first hired her, he just didn’t realise it, looking svelte in the suit he made for her, yet still kicking ass (like she always did), the one he gifted to her on their wedding anniversary. He could still remember her chastising him with that tone of hers, using his full name in only the way she could. _“Anthony Edward Stark!”_ she had shrieked, and he had smiled at her, because that was his Pepper in her all glory, terrifying and lovable at the same time. _“Actually, it’s Anthony Edward Stark-_ Potts, _if I do recall,”_ he had smirked and he knew, despite her anger, she was secretly smiling to herself, because this time he involved her, and they were now a team.

  
He saw Rhodey next, flying high in the sky in his War Machine armour, blasting at the aliens left, right and centre. He knew that if he could see his best friend’s face, his brows would be furrowed, deep in concentration, the way he used to when he was studying for an exam when they were in MIT together. They’d go for a drink the next day, to celebrate finishing an exam and (hopefully) passing, feeling like they were winning at life because they were one step closer to reaching their goals. They’d never be able to go for a drink after this together.

  
There were others too. He saw Steve and Barnes, fighting side by side like the two of them always did, Sam flying over them. He knew he’d never be able to get his friendship back with Steve again, or say that he’d forgiven Barnes for his crimes, because he knew it wasn’t his fault, that he was a victim as much as himself.

  
He saw Bruce smashing things, hulking-out in a way he hadn’t done in years, knowing that even after all this, he’d still be heartbroken and that would be one thing he himself wouldn’t be able to fix.

  
He saw Thor as well, wielding lighting with his axe, the mighty God of Thunder once more, if only if it was for a little while. He’d still be grieving, but maybe once this is all over, he’d find peace.

  
He saw Clint, arrows flying, precisely hitting their target, because he never misses. The dusting had not been kind to him, vanishing his family like they had never existed, driving the man to insanity in his despair. He wished that it would all be okay after this, that he could be happy that his family will be back. But he knew he wouldn’t, because his family would never be complete again, not with Natasha gone, sacrificing herself to save the world, to rid herself of the red on her ledger. If only she knew that the red had been long gone.

  
He saw them all. Saw King T’Challa fighting in his Black Panther suit, saw Okoye and Shuri, saw Rocket and his tree (Groot, if he recalls), saw Captain Marvel (yet to call her Carol because the woman scared the shit out of him), saw Scott, the man that had made this all happen, and his girlfriend, saw Peter Quill, Drax and Mantis. He even saw Nebula, along with a green skinned woman, whom he presumed was her sister, and his heart lurched for her, hoping she’d find her happy ending where she didn’t have to fight anymore because she had won the battle of all battles and she could relax easily knowing no one would hurt her now.

  
He closed his eyes and saw Morgan, his sweet baby girl, and thought of her contagious laugh and her wide smile that was missing a tooth, of her big brown eyes that often flickered mischievously, the ones she had inherited from him. He remembered the day he first held her, so tiny—God, how tiny she was—and wriggling in his arms, thinking that if he made one wrong move, he would crush her, and he was so scared, so terrified of that happening. Because that was the last thing he could possibly want to do, he’d never want to hurt her, not his daughter. He would die protecting her so she could live happily.

  
So he did exactly that.

  
“I am Iron Man,” he said proudly, his father’s words from years ago echoing in his head.

  
_“Stark men are made of iron,”_ he would say. And that was what Tony was.

  
He snapped his fingers, thinking of what exactly he wanted to happen, all the while feeling the pure surge of power raging through his body, pounding through his blooding stream, thrashing at his bones. It made him want to cry out in agony. But he didn’t. Couldn’t.

  
Everything was becoming hazy now, pieces falling away at the edges, a blurry image, static sound, barely making out anything. He knew Peter was near him, calling out his name, but it was lost on him, so very far away, like they were a part of two separate worlds that were drifting further from each other by the second. There was Pepper too, touching his face, cupping his cheek in a gentle caress, saying words he could hardly grasp, hardly hear.

  
“You can rest now,” were the final words he caught before he fell into an eternal slumber.


End file.
